Unmasked Realizations
by Not A Ghost3
Summary: Five times Erik refused to take his mask off for Christine, and one time he did...Leroux. E/C Angst. One-Shot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.**

 **I know- I should be focusing on writing Gloriana Femina's one-shot for WWF, BUT I've been wanting to write this kind of story for a while now, so here is my take at it! Hope you guys like it!**

* * *

It had been one year since she had heard her Angel of Music's voice come from within her dressing room walls.

One long, miserable, lonely year.

So she was understandably shocked when one evening she heard a faint _click_. She had turned around looking for what had made the noise and found her masked angel standing in the doorway of the mirror instead.

"Erik…"

He had simply looked down in response.

"I am sorry for upsetting you. Your face," she swallowed. "I wish to try again. I won't scream this time, I promise…" she whispered, stepping toward him.

He shook his head and turned back, the mirror closing with a familiar _click_ behind him.

She felt her hope walk out the door with him.

* * *

It had been two months since she had turned the scorpion and chose to stay in his underground home.

The blaze in the hearth crackled and popped in front of them, Christine on the settee and Erik on the floor beside her like a dog. He was toying with the hem of her skirt again, his long fingers tenderly caressing the lace.

"Erik…"

He slowly turned his head around to look up at her, his eyes looking more like gold than amber as they reflected the flames of the fireplace. She had never seen his eyes look so weary or tired before.

"I…I have thought long and hard and I…I forgive you," Christine said softly, scooting closer to the edge of the settee. "I will be your wife…if you will still have me that is—"

His arms wrapped around her so quickly and so tightly that she thought she may never breathe again.

"Thank you," he uttered before he reluctantly released her from his grasp.

Time was frozen as they stared at each other.

"I wish you would let me see you now. It's been so long since that night…I can handle it, I know I can," Christine pleaded for the first time in a long time, her eyes locked on the black mask that served as the barrier between them.

From what little of his face she _could_ see, she watched him purse his lips.

"Not yet…I have only just now gotten to taste happiness with you. Let me hold on to that happiness for just a while longer."

So she dropped the subject.

* * *

It had been three weeks since she had accepted his wedding proposal officially.

He had insisted on getting married in the early morning one March day as the sun rose. She had always assumed he would want to get married in the cover of night with darkness shrouding them so none would recognize them.

How wrong she'd been.

Instead they stood at the altar of a small church in the distant countryside, sunlight casting colorful patterns through the stain-glass windows. She was dressed in a light blue dress (she couldn't bear to look at much less wear the wedding dress from _that_ night) and him all in black, save for the mask he still wore which this time was the color of flesh so as not to arouse suspicion.

God and the wife of the kind pastor were their only witnesses.

Christine had been so lost in the way Erik looked in the glow of the sunshine— she had never seen him stand so fearlessly in the light of day before— that she had almost missed her vows.

 _Almost_.

"I do," she heard Erik's voice say and her eyes were drawn to his all over again.

"You may now kiss the bride," the officiate said, closing his book.

They simply stood and stared at each other.

"Erik…" she whispered her eyes silently imploring him to remove his mask, wordlessly begging him to grant her this one wish. "Please…"

He cast his eyes upward and inched closer to her. Hesitantly, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his mask hitting where his upper lip should've been.

She held back her tears until they returned to the fifth cellar.

* * *

It had been four days since they had wed.

She knew what was expected of her.

Each night she had sat on the corner of her bed awaiting him to come in and take her, as he had the right to.

But he never came.

Instead he bid her goodnight in the living room and then retired to his own room, the sound of his music filling in the usual silence of the night. Deciding to confront him, she had sat next to him on the sofa, closer than she had permitted herself to sit to him ever before.

He took notice.

"Erik…" He didn't look at her. "Erik, look at me."

And so he did.

Christine reached a hand up and ran it through his hair, thin as it was.

"I am your wife. I am afraid, but I know my duty—"

"You have no duty!" Erik cut her off, his eyes watery. "You agreed to marry me and you are here beside me. That is far more than I deserve. It is enough…it has to be enough…"

Christine's lips quivered as she let her hand drop back into her lap. "May I see you at least? Without the mask? That might make it easier…for the both of us."

Erik shook his head and stood up before retreating back to his room. It wasn't long before music began to float through the air.

She wondered if he ever slept.

* * *

It had been five weeks since their first time together.

Each time after that, Erik begged for her forgiveness. Begged her to forgive the monster inside of him that had tainted her innocence and made her _his_ even though she was the one who had asked him to.

During these times she held him.

She felt every tear that landed on her shoulder and rolled down her back, felt every shiver that shook his body as he cried out to her, felt every word that hit her soul like a ton of bricks, unsure whether it was love or pity that kept her laying wrapped up in the sheets beside of him, skin to skin.

Yet his mask stayed in place.

"Erik…" she calmly said as she rubbed circles on his bare back, his scars rough under her hands. "I am here, I am not leaving."

She had never wished hatred on anyone before in her life, but she wished hatred on the souls who had left the terrible marks on her husband.

How she wanted to remove his mask! If not to see his face, then so that his tears could flow freely. If he would take it off everything would be better, all the puzzle pieces would fall into the right holes and there would be no more apologies or excuses.

It would just be them.

Just be the truth.

"Would you take your mask off now? It is dark and I cannot see as well in the dark as you can…" Christine murmured, hugging him closer.

"Not yet…not now," his voice faltered through his tears.

Christine nodded against his chest, tears of her own seeping out of her eyes.

She only wished to understand him.

* * *

One hour.

That was how long ago she had found him sprawled out, barely conscious on the floor of his music room. He had mumbled words she couldn't understand as she knelt down beside him, too shocked for words. That had been an _hour_ ago.

She could feel the minutes slipping through her fingers as she desperately tried to hold on to them in vain like sand on the shore of the beach.

She couldn't.

So she held his hand.

"Erik you can't leave me, please, not like this…" she said as she cried, her grasp on his hand becoming tighter as she felt time speeding by faster.

He took a deep breath.

"My mask…take it off…you've waited long enough…" he was hoarse as he forced the broken words out of his mouth.

She could do nothing but stare at him.

"Erik, I can't…not now," she argued, pulling his hand closer to her chest.

"Christine…"

She let go of his hand and placed both of hers on the edges of his mask. Gingerly, she slipped it off over his face.

It was nothing at all like she had remembered.

His face was still deformed, yes, but no longer was she blinded my her naivety, nor was she frightened by the burning golden eyes for she knew that they shone like a thousand candles when he was happy. His eyes were duller now, as if the flames of the candles were slowly d—

She wouldn't force herself to think of the word as she couldn't stomach the thought of it now. Instead she ran a hand over the marred skin of his face, her tears dropping gently on him like morning rain.

 _Morning…._

They had gotten married in the morning time.

It was as if something clicked in her brain as she looked at his true face. Her heart raced as she realized what she had been trying to figure out all the time she had known him.

"I love you," she softly said the words that she had held back from him her entire life. Then she pressed a kiss to his mask-less lips, holding onto the moment, praying that it would never end.

"You…you love me?" Erik stammered, his hand raising to rest on her cheek.

She nodded as a faint smile came to her lips.

"I love you," she repeated, taking his hand in hers again.

And for the first time in her life, she saw him smile.

"You have made me the happiest man in the world…" he trailed off, his eyelids becoming heavier with every blink.

"Stay with me, please…you'll get better, I know you will," she whimpered as she leaned over him on the floor, their chests touching.

He used what little energy he had to shake his head. "No, I believe it is time…for heaven to hear a bit of _my_ music for a change…" his face expressed such emotion that Christine never realized was there before. This emotion…this _love_ had been there the whole time, hiding underneath not his mask, but a mask of her own.

"Christine..." He gazed at her for a moment longer before he raised his other hand to stroke her hair—

His hand fell limp to his side and Christine felt her soul go limp with him.

So she cried.

* * *

 **The End.**


End file.
